Mommy's Boy
by intergalacticbooty
Summary: Dean Ambrose needs something that Stephanie is sure she can give. Includes sexual content, age play, and mommy kink. Warning for mentions of past child abuse. Based on prompt for wrestlingkinkmeme and cross posted there. Reviews and feedback greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

Cruel. Calculating. Methodical. A bitch.

These were all things that described Stephanie McMahon the character.

Nurturing. Loving. Supportive. Dedicated. Intelligent. These described Stephanie McMahon the woman. Like any McMahon she wanted the best for her boys and girls. She thought nothing of staying up long hours to help them through professional and personal problems. To see talents grow and thrive in her company…that was something special. Something that filled her with such pride and joy that it kept her going even in the darkest and most difficult of times.

It's why she didn't mind playing the bitch. The villain. The egomaniac. Because it gave something for her boys and girls to bounce off of, to use as an anchor to be the best heel or face possible through feuds or alliances. Many outside of the company who didn't participate backstage thought Seth was her favorite, but when it came down to it she had no favorites. All she had was a never dying drive to push those to do their best and provide them what they needed to reach each new personal best.

Which is why she had begun this feud with Dean Ambrose. Because he was an astounding talent. Great in the ring and even better on the mic with a rough and rowdy charm that appealed to those backstage and the higher ups as much as it did the millions and millions of WWE fans. But something was flagging in the young man and she honestly couldn't blame him. Passed over for title shot after title shot, truthful promises of his day eventually coming while Seth and Roman exchanged world title reigns just wasn't enough anymore.

But feuding with a McMahon? Now that could draw in any talent's interest and Dean was no exception. Although Stephanie herself found it frustrating. She knew the character he dawned in the independents, his issues a hyperbole of true life experiences and his mistreatment of women for the sake of storylines not a misogynistic streak (he was the politest little scrapper she had ever met), but a manifestation of mistreatment he experienced at the hands of the fairer sex. It was frustrating to Stephanie he couldn't bring that inner character out, that calling her a bitch or physically dragging her around the ring wasn't conducive to a PG product.

So she did what she could, surrounding herself with the remaining League of Nation members as Dean trampled one after another while she dueled it out on the mic with him. But the spark, the fire she knew he could have deep down inside just wasn't quite there. Not yet. Hopefully with a little bit more it would be, but in the meantime she was cooking up something fabulous for him to pitch to her father and the rest of upper management to give him that extra 'unf' in his career.

Tonight seemed like any other RAW, Dean scheduled to wrestle Del Rio who would lose via disqualification, the League of Nations beating him down after the fact. This would then be followed by a snarling and snapping promo from yours truly, demeaning him in front of the entire audience. Little did she know something small would change the whole course of her and Dean's relationship.

The match went on without a hitch, Stephanie waiting and watching backstage as Dean hit Dirty Deeds, the crowd on their feet as he dove in for the three count before Sheamus and Rusev stumbled into the ring, beating him down. A super kick there, a Brogue kick here, and Dean was laying on his stomach, huffing and puffing as Stephanie's music hit, a staff hand motioning her towards the entrance ramp.

A chorus of boos showered down on her as her heels clicked on the metal ramp, a swarm-y, closed-mouthed and tight smile gracing her lips before she brought the mic up. "You just don't get it, Dean, do you?" She began, climbing up the steel steeps before elegantly stepping into the ring, stopping mere centimeters from his head. Weakly the young man tilted his head up, wincing as he sold the beat down. "How many times do I have to explain this to your simple little mind, huh?" She clutched onto a handful of curly, reddish brown sweat slicked locks, bending her hips at the waist and forcing those wide, tired blue eyes to meet her furious gaze. "I am the Authority. I own you. I control your world and you are nothing…" She paused then, knowing that this promo was meant to end here, that she was meant to leave him there and exit with the same showering of boos, but she needs to up the intensity. "Nothing but a scared little boy with mommy issues."

The broken look in Dean's eyes, tears seemed to almost instantly form as she lets go of his hair makes her regret the line. Because Ambrose wasn't meant to cry, is meant to be cool and controlled chaos and she knew then that she struck a chord with the man behind the persona. And this was not okay. She was supposed to help her girls and boys, not cause them true harm. Stephanie was still greeted with the appropriate boos as she swallowed dryly, receding backstage as RAW went to commercial.

"Roman, have you seen Dean?" Because she needed to apologize, to see if this particular special boy was truly okay.

Roman swallowed the gulp of water before giving Stephanie a sympathetic, soft gaze. "He's uh, still in his locker room. Hasn't left it since your guys' segment earlier."

Shit. She had feared that. How could she be so crass and careless?

"We tried to tell him RAW's wrapping up now, but, uh...he said he's just gonna call a cab back to the hotel." The Samoan shrugged then, looking a bit clueless as to what was wrong and for that Stephanie was grateful. The cameras must have missed that look he made, that look that had been haunting her since.

"Thanks. Now go back and get yourself some must deserved rest." And with a small hug and a pat on Roman's shoulder, her heels began clicking furiously as she rushed to the room designated for Dean to change in.

Patience was never a big attribute of Steph's and that's painfully evident as her fist raps against Dean's door, her hand nearly colliding with the broad chest of the young man she was seeking to consol. Goodness, his eyes were a shade of red and puffy, ring gear and the slick smell of sweat dripping off of him evidence of that fact he hadn't showered since his match. The McMahon had really done a number on her talent with the comment she mad and she would kick her past self if she could.

"Yes, ma'am?" It's demure almost, seemed strange on his rough and brash voice.

"Can we speak, Dean? I…I know it's late and you might have plans for tonight, but…" She stepped inside, continuing the speech she had been playing back in her head ever since their segment completed, Dean shutting the door behind her. "…I wanted to apologize."

His nose scrunched up then in confusion, his bizarrely handsome features looking downright adorable to the older woman as she took a seat on one of the benches in the makeshift changing room. "You ain't got nothing to be sorry for." Dean shrugged then, pulling up a stray chair and sitting on it backwards, fingers beginning to tap against it nervously, much like he tapped against his own collarbone at times of stress outside and inside of the ring.

"But I do, Dean." Before he could retort she stuck a finger up patiently, signaling that she needed to finish. "I was completely and utterly out of line with that comment. I went off script and I know that you have too much pride to admit it, but it clearly struck a chord with you. And I am absolutely sorry. It was unprofessional and inappropriate of me."

Dean broke her gaze then, staring down at his still taped up hands, flexing for a moment as Stephanie drew the conclusion that they were quite a nice pair of hands. "I dunno, I mean…" His pink tongue lapped out for a moment, wetting his bottom lip before he continued. "…I didn't expect it, but it's…it's not like you're wrong. I, uh, I do…um…have those problems, y'know…with older women and stuff." A rough rub of the back of his own neck, hand clenching the wooden chair tightly.

"I…this is why I need to apologize and express to you that I will never, ever address something like this again." Her heart ached for him, truly. Because despite all his success and talent, he still suffered due to the cruelty and incompetency of a weak woman, unfit to raise a child and who's only contribution to the world was bringing such a brilliant talent to life. "I knew it was a sensitive topic for you and broached the issue. And while I do think it is something we would like to help you deal with eventually, Dean, I should not have pushed it to the forefront like that."

"Apology accepted, Steph." Followed by a dimpled grin, but there's hesitance in those blue eyes, flickering away quickly in a manner she had become familiar with when the young man had more to say.

"Dean, is…" She breathed in then, before laying a gentle hand on one clenching grip. His hand relaxed instantly, but he didn't dare meet her gaze as she spoke. "…is there something I can do for you now? Something I can help with? You know I always want to do right by my talent in any way possible. I take care of my girls and boys…" Stephanie stopped then, still not quite being able to catch his gaze or attention once more and decided to add a little more. "…that includes my very special baby boys like you."

A shaking breath was sucked in then and he yanked his hand away, standing up violently from the chair. "Your…you can't just say shit like that!" His voice was loud then, echoing against the four corners of the dimly lit room as he began pacing and for a moment Stephanie is reminded by just how truly art imitated life. "You can't j-just…just, just offer that kinda shit up. What do you want from me, huh?"

The McMahon sighed then, deciding not to reply instantly as the wrestler began to calm himself slightly, rubbing violently at the collarbone connected to his bad shoulder. "I want to know what will make you feel better, Dean. What will help you feel more relaxed and at ease. We…I value you a lot here and what you bring to the company. And I don't want it to be put to waste. I don't want you to suffer with a problem that we can help solve. So please…" She leaned forward then, taking on a sweet and genuine tone as her own eyes demanded his attention. "…tell me what my special little boy needs."

Dean looked down then, body seemingly vibrating despite the fact he was inhumanely still. The stillness was even more eerie with the fact it was Dean fucking Ambrose. "Lemme…lemme be your baby boy."


	2. Chapter 2

It was an interesting ride back to Stephanie's hotel to say the least. Dean fiddled with the limo's various little buttons, eyes growing wider at each little thing each button did as if he never rode in one. Then again…had he ever?

He had recanted his desires almost instantly, clutching at his hair and pulling back into a corner and begging Stephanie to leave, to just let him be. But she pushed him, pushed him to be honest and to open up and to explain. And he did. It was broken and quiet and his voice was laced with shame as he expressed his desires, expressed the suppression of physical and emotional abuse that his mother subjugated him to on a normal basis and how he suffered with women. Stephanie toyed with the idea of hunting his mother down and paying her a special visit when he shared the story of her burning him with a curling iron at age 7 when he accidentally broke a glass cup while cleaning dishes.

It was easy for her to picture him as her baby boy because despite that battle hardened body and scruffy face and chest hair and towering 6'4 frame, his droopy blue eyes were so innocent as he fiddled with his wrist tape, explaining how certain words or tones would terrify him, but how desire ran deep. That he had a fascination with punishment that he had tried to broach the subject with previous partners much to their disgust. He turned red and hot in shame, trying to avoid her gaze as before she nodded in understanding.

He kept on the act of denial, told her he couldn't and she shouldn't and Triple H was going to kill him. The latter argument was quickly absolved when Hunter assured him he was fine with it over the phone, that he was one of their brightest talents and if he needed this from Dean like Seth and Roman sometimes needed things from Triple H himself (Dean gawked at that), then so be it. Eventually he accepted her offer, expression turning giddy in excitement before it all became nerves and tension.

And that was how they ended up here, Stephanie tipping the limo driver a hefty amount before motioning for Dean to follow her through the hotel lobby. It was a Ritz-Carlton, something normal talents like Dean couldn't afford on top of their travel expenses. She really did need to discuss with her father about refinancing the business a tad, compensating the workers' additionally for travel. But that was for another time, another meeting, because right now she had to slip on a role that she had little to not experience with, but could have made or broken one of the most precious and crucial talents for the current generation.

Dean whistled as he swaggered into her penthouse room, eyes raking over the fancy, expensive furniture, the glorious view of the balcony, and the soft, velvet blankets on the king sized canopy bed. "Fancy ass room ya got here…making me feel underdressed and outta place, ma'am."

"Nonsense." She tutted at him, as she opened the door to the expansive bathroom and then proceeded to turn the bathroom lights on. "You have just as much right to be in this room as Hunter and I." Steph joined him back in the middle of the bedroom, hands snuck up and slide that heavy, dated leather jacket off his shoulders. She didn't miss the slight jump from the young man, but didn't mention it as she began to speak. "You must be absolutely exhausted. I know this is…a lot to take in. But I want you to take a shower for me, alright? I'll have a change of clothing ready for you by the time you're done. And I will take care of everything tonight."

Dean shivered then, turning around to face her with a nervous gaze, rubbing his hands together as he peddled his feet slightly. "I, uh…y'know…this isn't how I expected ta spend my night, heh…"

"I know, which is why I want you to give me a safeword." She replied without missing a beat.

"Whut?"

"In case you become overwhelmed in our…play. I want you to be able to opt out. I don't want to mentally or physically harm you, Dean." A gentle hand caressed his chubby cheek, giving it a small squeeze. "This is to make you feel good. To help you cope. This is for your benefit. And I'm here to make sure you grow and are comfortable in doing so."

He was silent then, twiddling his thumbs nervously in a manner the McMahon could only describe as adorable. "Ohio…m-my safeword, it's uh…it's gonna be Ohio." She smiled with a nod then, leaning up slightly to kiss his forehead then, before sending him on his merry way to shower.

While Dean scrubbed the heaviness of the day's events out of his skin and attempted to shed anxiety, Stephanie made a quick phone call out to an assistant to pick up a few very specific things for her as quickly as possible.

She needed to make this perfect for Dean, to have the young man find some comfort and security in the actions that were going to take place. Stephanie hoped it would be a nice little addition to the scene awaiting them, cogs turning within her mind she didn't even know existed as she played through different scenarios for her and this special little boy to indulge in.

When Dean emerged from the shower feeling somewhat cleaner but no less anxious he began to towel off nervously, the cotton soft material slipped from his trembling hands numerous times before he nearly tore it in half in frustration. He dried then in hurried silence, but soon found the towel escaping his grasp for an entirely different reason.

Where once laid Dean's jeans and boxers and t-shirt then sat a new outfit. Black pajama pants with trucks all over them, dark gray t-shirt with one solo truck that matched the blues on the pants laid where his normal clothes once did. All of the breath was gone from his lugs when he found a pair of pristine tighty whities there as well…something he hadn't worn since he was under the age of ten. With unsteady hands Dean began to dress himself, finding the shirt stopped right above his belly button, the pants resting an inch or so above his ankles. He looked at himself in the mirror, feeling quite foolish all of a sudden. He was a grown man for Christ's sake with face stubble and a happy trail sneaking out from underneath the insanely soft pajamas pants and asked for something so dirtybadwrong from his female boss of all people. God, he should call it all off right now, scream 'Ohio' through the bathroom door until Steph gave him back his clothes and then shimmy out through the balcony and forget this night ever happened.

Dean opened his mouth slowly, ready to shout out his home state, but Stephanie knocked on the door first, his words caught in his throat.

"How's my sweetie doing in there, hmm?" Her voice was a sweet hum then, giving him a moment to realize the scene had already started before she continued. "You didn't fall into the toilet, you little silly, did you? Mama's coming in now, dear…"

Dean trembled then as the doorknob turned, his heart in his throat as Stephanie emerged from bedroom. Her hair was tied back into a loose bun and the seductive, curve-hugging black number she wore earlier had been tossed aside for a sleeveless, ankle-long pastel nighty. Dean didn't know why, but the whole look screamed 'Mom' and it made his knees weak.

"Didn't brush your teeth yet, did you?" She tsked then, but waited with her arms loosely across her chest. She was quite surprised at how easily she fell into this role, but with Dean's wide and lost innocent eyes, it made it that much easier to do.

"N-No, M-Ma…" He tried the term on his tongue, flinching a little when she came closer, but relaxed hesitantly as she chuckled and patted his side. Dean wasn't sure where the toothpaste and toothbrush came from, but didn't complain as she began scrubbing his teeth for him. It was such a simple action, but it twisted something deep within his gut to know that she would take care of his basic needs like this. Like a good mother would.

"Now spit, get it all out, there you go." Dean instinctively reached up to wipe the excess foam from his lips, but Stephanie quickly cut him off by wiping it off with a hand towel, giving him the warmest smile before she took his hand and lead him out into the main hotel room.

His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of quite a sizable teddy bear sitting at the top of the bed and the coloring books (completely with crayons) and reading books that now laid on the sizable side table. Stephanie sat down at the foot of the bed, patting for Dean to join her.

The wrestler scrambled for a moment, a level of uneasiness still far too high for him to fully submerse himself, for him to give into the gift of nurturing that Stephanie was offering him. "Now, you know I love you, sweetheart. You're my special little boy, but…Momma is very disappointed in you." She began and his heart hammered impossibly hard to the point he feared it would burst out of his chest. "And she just has to punish you for it. But if you're a good boy and count each spanking up to ten, then we'll stay up past your bedtime for coloring and stories, okay?"

"W-What?" Dean gasped out, his eyebrows knitted together as his resolve wavered. Stephanie didn't slip out of her role at all, though, and simply rubbed at the inside of Dean's wrist in soothing circles.

"Across my knee, honey. I won't ask again or we'll make it fifteen." There was authority there, but not of THE Authority, no, but of a loving mother losing patience with her stubborn child.

Dean managed to shift forward then, his mind a wreck of fear and nerves as attempted to lay comfortably against her lap, finding the most suitable place for him to lay was with his groin against her lap and…Jesus Christ, he was half hard. God, he was so fucked up, so sick and twisted and there was just something so, so wrong, but before he could process another thought, Steph-…his Mommy tugged down his little truck pants and his white little undies, leaving his bottom exposed to the cool air of the hotel room.

"Remember to count, Deanie." Thwack.

"O-One…" He gasped out, his brain not quite processing the sensation at first, but the second impact stung. And so did the third. And he kept counting and be seven his throat was drawn tight, his ass an aching red from those open palm smacks and he found himself sniffling slightly, from the pain or just pure, raw emotion of the scene he didn't know.

"Do you know why I'm doing this, honey? Why I'm disappointed?" She stopped after eight, rubbing his left cheek gently to indicate she was well aware that she hadn't reached ten. Growing daring for a moment, she nonchalantly parted Dean's cheeks for a moment, ghosting a finger over is hole. "Answer me, baby boy…why is Mommy upset?"

Dean sobbed out a choked groan then, burying his face in the sheets for a moment when the words began to tumble out. It was like he was a child again, painful memories of his mother breaking his arm, burning his flesh with cigarettes, calling him stupid, fucking her clients in front of him, shooting up in the living room, and sending him to bed hungry because she traded their food stamps for crack. "'Cause I'ma bad boy…I-I messed up, Mama…I shouldan't've broken the dishes, Mama…" He hiccupped then, Stephanie slide a free hand up to rub the back of his neck as he continued. "…I-I know you don't want me, 'm sorry…I-I know I'm jus a dirty lil' boy…I ain't no good, no good…'M such a bad boy for Mommy.." He started to heave then, cheeks and neck and chest turning red from any plethora of emotions.

Arousal, pain, fear, excitement, they all overwhelmed Stephanie's sweet, special boy and she began cooing to him, pulling that messy mop of red brown locks back to kiss at his tear stained cheeks. "Oh no, honey, no no…Mommy's not mad at you for making mistakes. Little boys make mistakes all the time." He froze then, staring up at her because he didn't expect so much acceptance, so much understanding from his new Mommy. "Mommy's just upset that you didn't tell her what you needed her to do for you for so long. But it's okay, honey, it's okay…because now you can tell me everything, can't you?"

"Y-Yeah…" It was a shaky reply that turned into a groan at the end as a finger brushed over his hole once more.

"Where were we again, honey?"

"E-Eight, Mommy…" It was such an innocent tone then, Dean's mind beginning to clear and hone in on nothing but the slap of his Mommy's hand as she completed the last portions of his punishment with him counting like a good boy.

Dean didn't dare move without her permission, lying flat as he felt her shift slightly, before a gentle and cool cream was applied to his stinging, red bottom. "You were so good for Mommy, sweetheart…just like the special baby boy I knew you could be."

The rubbing motion was welcomed after the physical and mental turmoil of his Mommy's punishment, but as Dean relaxed against the soft touch of her hands and the warm embrace of the velvet against his tear-stained face, his Mommy began speaking once more.

"Is my baby boy hard, hmm?"

"Nngh…" It was meant to be a 'no', but the noise was muffled by Dean's mouth against the bed and his own shyness.

"Oh, honey, I think you are." The pants and undies were firmly back over her baby's bottom before she continued. "I thank my baby boy is just aching in his little underwear, isn't he? It's alright, Mommy's here to help…"


End file.
